The Best Of Causes Ruins As Quickly

Art Matters Not Merely Because It Is The Most Magnificent Ornament And The Most Nearly Unfailing Occupation Of Our Lives, But Because It Is Life Itself.

One Of The Most Puzzling Things About A Novel Is That "the Way It Really Was" Half The Time Is, And Half The Time Isn't, The Way It Ought To Be In The Novel.

Art Is Long, And Critics Are The Insects Of A Day.

A Poem Is, So To Speak, A Way Of Making You Forget How You Wrote It.

If You Look At The World With Parted Lips And A Pure Heart, And Will The Good, Won't That Make A True And Beautiful Poem? One's Heart Tells One That It Will; And One's Heart Is Wrong. There Is No Direct Road To Parnassus.